A Terrible Idea
by Rosawyn
Summary: Jemma Simmons is a waitress, and one of her customers offers to pay her to give his girlfriend a lap dance. She could really use the extra money.


**A Terrible Idea**

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**For thegfunk's prompt on Tumblr: "****Skimmons - Jemma gives Skye a lap dance."**

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Jemma Simmons was very nearly done her shift for the night. Her hair was sticking to the back of her neck and her blouse was sticking to her back. Her feet hurt. Her face hurt from forcing smiles at rude and impatient customers. She placed the drinks—a screwdriver and Rum and Coke—on the table in front of the couple she hoped would be her last customers for the evening and offered them both the most sincere smile she could muster. "There you go; enjoy your drinks."

As she turned to leave, the man's hand snaked out and caught her wrist. "Wait." He was looking at her from under half-closed eyelids. "How would you like to earn a little extra money?"

Jemma turned back, eyes wide as she looked down at where his large fingers encircled her small wrist and tried very hard not to feel threatened. It wasn't exactly the first time a customer had touched or even grabbed her. Not even the first time that evening. "Could you let go of me please?"

"What the hell are you doing, Grant?" the woman who had ordered the screwdriver asked, shooting him a glare.

Grinning lazily, he released Jemma's wrist and pulled his hand back. He looked between Jemma and the other woman, blatantly unconcerned. "Hey, just hear me out." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and regarding Jemma with obvious interest. "I'm offering you five hundred dollars to give my girlfriend here a lap dance—what do you say?"

Five hundred dollars? Jemma looked at his girlfriend, but the other woman didn't look jealous, she just looked...kind.

"Hey, look." The other woman leaned forward, resting her arms on the table and shooting Grant a disgusted look before turning her attention back to Jemma. "I apologize for my boyfriend here; he's being an ass, and I'm sorry if he's making you uncomfortable. You've probably dealt with enough creeps for one night."

It was true, Jemma was uncomfortable and she had dealt with more than enough creeps in her lifetime, but...she could really use the money. And it's not like he was asking her to give _him_ a lap dance. Still, this woman clearly wasn't interested in a lap dance, and Jemma didn't want to get into the middle of whatever weird relationship problems they were obviously having. She shoved a stray lock of hair behind her ear and offered the other woman a nervous smile. "I'm sorry. I really should be going."

Grant wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders and kissed her hair above her ear, watching Jemma out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you think our waitress is pretty, Skye?"

Skye rolled her eyes and looked as though she wanted to shrug him off but didn't. She looked at Jemma. "She is very pretty, but she has a job to do, and we're keeping her from that."

Jemma glanced at the clock. "Actually, my shift is over for the night," she admitted then stopped, shocked, wishing she hadn't said that—Skye had given her a perfect escape and she hadn't taken it. Damn her stupid compulsive honesty, really.

Skye raised an eyebrow, eyes somehow both amused and compassionate at once.

Jemma could feel herself blushing. "Look, I—" She grimaced. "I really could use the money, but I'm not going to do anything you're not okay with, Skye."

Skye placed her hands palms down on the table and gave Jemma a gentle smile. "I'm okay with anything you're okay with."

"Well, I—" Jemma looked around. There were only a few patrons left, but… "I'm not going to do this here."

Grant smiled, triumph in his heavy-lidded eyes. He toyed with his phone, sliding it against the surface of the table. "How about I call us all a cab?"

Jemma took a breath, trying to calm herself. "Right, well, I need to cash out and…"

"Yeah. We need to finish our drinks anyway, so just meet us back here whenever you're ready." The corner of Grant's mouth turned up and his eyes flashed with pleased amusement. "Unless you change your mind."

Jemma very nearly did change her mind, but somehow she still found herself back at their table a few minutes later, holding her folded apron in one hand.

Skye gave her a warm smile. "Ready to go, then? We can go to my place, or your place, or his place—whatever you'd prefer."

Jemma really didn't want to go anywhere belonging to Grant, and her own tiny apartment was out of the question—maybe she could invite someone like Skye there, but not Grant. "Your place?"

"Sounds good." Skye stood up and pulled on her jacket. Her eyes lit on Jemma's nametag. "Mind if I call you 'Jemma'?"

Jemma shook her head, smiling. "Don't mind at all."

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Skye's apartment was...nice. Small, cluttered and a bit disorderly, but it smelled fine and for all the general _stuff_ lying around, it was actually quite clean. Nothing was grimy, grubby, or sticky. There were a few crumbs on the counter near the toaster, but other than that, the counters were clean.

Skye kicked the door closed behind the three of them. "Do you want to freshen up or anything, Jemma?"

Jemma glanced at Grant; he was the one paying her, after all, but he just flopped down in an easy chair, put his feet up on the coffee table, and grinned lazily at the two of them. "Whatever the two of you want; I'm just paying for the actual dance. Don't care much about the details."

Jemma considered washing her face, even fixing her hair, but ultimately she just wanted to get this over with. She'd never given—or received—a lap dance before, but she understood the basics of what she was supposed to do. Skye put on some music—nothing Jemma recognized, but it filled the silence without being too loud—and sat on a kitchen chair. Jemma straddled her lap, awkward at first, but they were both laughing at the awkwardness, so it just became funny and that was okay.

"All right." Grant was grinning at them, leaning forward and watching intently. "Let's get this started?"

Skye shot him a look. "How long does she have to do this for?"

Grant rolled his shoulders and glanced at the clock. "Well, she has to actually be moving or it doesn't count, but...ten minutes? And you can touch her too. Kiss, whatever. I mean, if you want." He grinned, his eyes dark and shining.

Jemma couldn't see the clock without twisting around, but that was probably for the best. Time would likely just pass slower if she were watching the clock. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, placing her hands on Skye's shoulders for balance. Her voice was barely more than a squeak when she spoke, "Okay?"

"Sure," Skye replied. "Whenever you're ready."

So Jemma started to move, her heart beating wildly in her chest and her face uncomfortably hot.

"That's right," Grant purred. "Beautiful."

Jemma tightened her grip on Skye's shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut. "Can you not—?"

"Yeah, Grant, honey," Skye said, gentle hands steadying on Jemma's hips, "just shut up."

It got better after that; Jemma could focus on Skye and pretend Grant wasn't there. "Am I—am I doing this right?" she whispered.

Skye laughed softly and replied, voice low, "I've only ever given lap dances before, and never to a woman, but...you're doing fine; don't worry."

Jemma wondered if Skye could even possibly be enjoying this. But she kept smiling at Jemma, encouraging. And despite how embarrassing this was, it still felt good for Jemma, and that of course was even more embarrassing. But her body seemed to know what it was doing now, moving on its own, pressing closer to Skye's soft curves, grinding. "Oh, God," she gasped, a thousand half-formed worries spinning through her head.

"It's fine," Skye soothed, hands moving up and down Jemma's sides. "You're okay." Skye glanced at something over Jemma's shoulder. "Just a little more, sweetheart."

Jemma buried her face in Skye's hair and whimpered. The way their bodies were touching felt so good, and Skye was telling her that was okay. She was still a little scared, but Skye made her feel safe. Skye was the only thing that mattered, and Skye was beautiful.

Jemma panted, her whole body shaky, resting her forehead against Skye's shoulder.

"Wow." Grant's voice cut through everything, breaking the spell. "That was amazing. Totally worth the five hundred."

Jemma's whole body went cold. What the hell had she just _done_? Guilt swirled in her stomach and she felt sick.

"Hey, time's up," Grant said. "I'm allowed to talk again."

Skye turned to look at her boyfriend. "Grant, what—?" She sounded shocked and angry. "Give me that. Give it to me _now_."

Jemma pulled back and bit, blinking. She didn't look at Grant, didn't want to, but she didn't understand what Skye was talking about.

"Don't play dumb." Skye's voice was angrier, harder. "Your _phone_. She didn't agree to that. Hell, _I_ didn't agree to that."

Sighing theatrically, Grant walked over and slapped his phone into Skye's open hand. "_Fine_."

Skye rolled her eyes at him, extremely unimpressed. "Now pay her what you promised and get out."

"Whatever." He put a wad of bills on the table. "Want me to count it to prove it's all there?"

Skye was frowning intently at Grant's phone, working the touchscreen with one hand while her other still rested on Jemma's hip. "Might as well."

As Grant counted out the bills, Jemma slowly realized that Skye was deleting things off of her boyfriend's phone. "Oh, God."

Jemma slid off of Skye's lap and nearly fell, but Skye steadied her, looking up at her with concern in her eyes. "You okay?"

"He...he _filmed_ us?"

"Yep," Skye confirmed as she once again focused on the phone. "But I'm deleting all of it. He had some still shots too. It's all going to be gone in just a few seconds."

Jemma had to sit down before she fainted or threw up, so she collapsed into another kitchen chair and put her head in her hands. This had been a _terrible_ idea.

"Good thing I have a good memory." Grant grinned at the two of them, entirely unrepentant, and held the money out to Jemma.

She took it numbly and stuffed it in her pocket.

"Can I have my phone before I go?" he asked. "Assuming you still want me to leave."

"Oh, don't worry." Skye gave him a disdainful look as she handed the phone back. "I definitely still want you to leave."

"I'll call you tomorrow, babe," he said, leaning in to kiss the top of her head.

"Stop talking," Skye warned, "before I decide to change my number."

He held up his hands, grinning crookedly as he backed up towards the door.

Once he was gone, Skye turned to Jemma. "Oh my gosh, I am so, _so_ sorry about that. I had no idea he would do that, and I probably shouldn't have agreed to this at all in the first place—are you okay?" He brown eyes were filled with worry. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm fine." Jemma tried to smile to reassure her that she really was. "I mean, it was actually kind of...nice? If he hadn't been there, I mean." She felt herself blush.

Skye grinned, relieved. "Yeah, I mean, _other_ than the creepy guy filming us." She rolled her eyes and laughed a little, patting Jemma on the knee. "But I agree; it was kinda nice. Let me get you a drink or something before I call you a cab?"

"Okay."

They exchanged phone numbers over steaming cups of peppermint tea. Jemma really liked Skye. And Skye liked Jemma. Maybe, without necessarily meaning to, Grant had done them both a favour.

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**A/N: ****I really hope I don't actually have to tell anyone this, but...as a semi-responsible adult I still feel like I should state that I do **_**not **_**encourage anyone to actually go anywhere with some random person who offers to pay for a lap dance. Seriously, this is probably a good way to end up dead in an alleyway. So yeah, don't.**

**This fic is part of my "Let me write something for you" Marvel prompt request on Tumblr.**

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